


Someone To Come Home To

by Make__Shift



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dorado map, Eating out, F/M, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reader is good with their hands, Soldier 76 is injured and needs some help, Stitches, wink wink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12189555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Make__Shift/pseuds/Make__Shift
Summary: After years of living alone, perhaps all the soldier needed was someone to take care of him.





	1. If introductions are to be made...

**Author's Note:**

> What did Soldier 76 get up to while living in Dorado before the short? Breakin' skulls and hearts alike.  
> Slight hurt/comfort because I love the playing nurse trope. Read, review, repeat!

It had been a few weeks since news of a masked vigilante had reached your small town. Normally word moved fast in these parts, however, there seemed to be a renewed oppression in the town as the gangs grew restless at the prospect of competition. Thankfully your small inn had been spared. 

For now. You contemplated. 

You stood up from the basket of strawberries you had been picking, grimacing slightly at the twinge in your back as you straightened up. You wiped the dirt off of your kneecaps and took the basket inside with you. Cool relief washed over you as you entered the dark interior. The days had gotten hotter and hotter as summer reached its apex. You ran your free hand across your brow, wiping the sweat that had accumulated there.

"Thank god for fans."

"You can say that again."

Startled by the unseen voice, you whirled around- sending a few berries flying in the process. Leaning against the back wall you could make out the shape of a fairly tall man, leaning casually against the wall. 

"Sorry- didn't mean to make you jump there." He offered, with a somewhat sheepish tone. 

You glanced around at the small mess you had made and stooped to pick up the stray berries, "Well, be thankful I didn't drop the whole lot- I need these for some tarts."

"Baker, are you?"

"When I'm not busy being a repairman, gardener, and maid, sure- I like to bake a little." His leather jacket creaked slightly as he uncrossed his arms and rested a hand in his pocket. The colouration and pattern seemed the teeniest bit familiar but you couldn't place it, nor think of any reason why you would have come across someone dressed that way.

Stepping forward, he approached the counter. The light from the window caught the edge of his mask and you blinked at the reflection. The basket sat close to where he placed his elbow, and you eyed it carefully. 

"So, Mr. ...?"

"Smith"

You watched his face carefully- or rather the mask that hid his face, gaining no clue as to what lay beneath.

You raised an eyebrow, "Right... Mr. Smith. I take it you are not here just to startle women, but are in the market for accommodations?"

A low chuckle resounded from beneath the mask, "That would be correct. I've got some work in town for the next month or so, and I was wondering if you had any rooms available."

For a moment you considered the choices. A strange masked man suddenly appearing on your doorstep just after you'd heard the stories floating around about a masked vigilante... the nearly empty cashbox in your bedroom... The empty guestbook on the counter answered the question for you, "... I think something can be arranged. If you'd follow me Mr. Smith, I will show you to your room."

You turned from behind the desk, twirling the string of the room key between your restless fingers. The worn stairs creaked as the two of you made your way up to the bedrooms. You passed by empty rooms along the way until you reached one at the end of the hall. The keys jingled as you opened the lock and swung the door open, revealing a small but inviting room. Decorated with local tapestry and linens bearing the colours of your town's craftspeople, it brought a welcoming mood to the room. 

"Can't complain about the view" he had moved to the small balcony, drawing the double doors open in a graceful arc. The midmorning sun framed the strong line of his shoulders in a way that put the valley outside to shame.

"Quite..." you managed. 

He turned on his heel, and you effortlessly drew your eyes from the view to his face. 

"Meals are served downstairs in the kitchen, and with a short walk, there's a lot to do in town- though by the sounds of things you'll be busy."

His shoulders seemed to relax a bit, as if finally he had let his guard down- for the moment.

You walked towards the door and you hear him call out after you, "What time did you say dinner was?"

Turning your chin over your shoulder, you paused in the doorway. "I didn't" He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow in response.

You grinned, "7 o'clock for dinner, or earlier if you'd prefer to start with a drink." You tossed the key towards him as you left, leaving him to settle in and unpack. 

 

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Dinner was uneventful- your guest preferred to take a light supper to his room and eat there. A shame really, you had been waiting to see what was under that mask. 

Another time then, Mr. Smith. You mused. 

The dishes kept you in the kitchen for a while. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables lingering in the kitchen made your stomach growl. You had anticipated sharing a meal, and to accommodate your guest's needs you had to delay your own dinner. After things were satisfactory, you sat down to eat- pouring a generous glass of wine to keep you company. The length of the day caught up to you by the time you had finished the glass, and your shoulders drooped as you took your dishes to the sink. 

They can wait until morning, you thought to yourself- feeling immensely grateful you had done all the hard scrubbing beforehand. 

You set the candles out in the kitchen and in the open patio where you normally ate. Taking a moment to enjoy the cool night air, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in of all the surrounding aromas.; the fresh flowers in your planter baskets, the lingering scent of candle smoke- the fresh warm air of the summer night.

The lantern in your hand flickered as you made your way into your room for the night, extremely thankful for the day's end. Grateful also for the new guest you had- however mysterious and probably dangerous he was. You quietly slipped into your nightclothes and cracked the window open. Outside the sound of crickets were filling the night-chilled air, and you sighed heavily as you laid down in your bed. The fresh soft sheets enveloped your tired body, and you fell into an easy slumber with thoughts of the masked man on your mind as you drifted off. 

The sound of floorboards woke you, and you sat up in bed silently listening for the source of the noise. You'd be lying if your first thoughts didn't turn to Los Muertos first. You hadn't had trouble with them for several months- but that was before you were left to run the family inn by yourself. You were suddenly reminded by how extremely alone you were. 

You reached under the bed for the wooden bat you kept there, its heavy weight a comfort in your hands. Slowly you snuck over to the door. After spending a moment in complete, ear-ringing silence you opened the door, ever so slightly to glance outside. You could see the silhouette of a man in the doorway at the end of the hall. 

A familiar silhouette. 

You opened the door further to say something to him, opening your mouth but not finding the words to say. He was out the front door before you managed to quietly bark out a "hey".

You left the bat in your room as you quickly made your way to the front door. Whoever this Mr. Smith was, he would certainly have some explaining to do when you caught up to him. Running out in the middle of the night! Who did he think he was? Every sensible person knew to stay indoors once the sun had gone down. Los Murtos had made sure to enforce that rule. 

The heavy wooden door opened on its hinges as you shoved yourself against it, yelling out another, more indignant, "Hey!" into the night. The empty street echoed your exclamation right back to you, and you blinked in surprise. He had been right in front of you- he should have been only a few meters away. And yet...

The gust of wind reminded you that you were standing in the street in your nightclothes, and encouraged you to go back inside to safety and warmth. You figured if he wanted to risk his life and go wandering around at night- that was his decision. At least he had paid for his rent in full, up-front. 

The small comfort of a full cash-box let you forget your worries for the night. 

 

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This pattern of living went on uninterrupted for a while, and it was nice to have some regularity. Starting in the early morning, you would prepare breakfast, deliver it to your guest's door with a soft knock, placing the tray on the floor. After eating your own, you would go outside and work in the garden for a while, collecting vegetables and fruit for the rest of the day's cooking, and then head back inside. Sometimes, you would venture into town to do some shopping, or to pay your friends a visit. In the afternoon, you would find the breakfast tray back in the kitchen with all the dishes washed. However unusual your guest was, nothing bad could be said for his manners. The afternoon would be spent cooking in the kitchen, and then a dinner spent alone as your guest once again retreated to his room to eat. 

This was your routine for a while. Up until one night where you were awoken not by the sound of squeaky floorboards, but by quiet groans of pain. 

Again, you sat upright in bed- breath caught in your throat as you heard the all-too familiar sounds of laboured breathing and pained grunts. Grabbing your trusty bat, you threw yourself off the bed, sheets falling on the floor behind you. You threw the door open, brandishing the bat over your head as you took in the sight before you. 

Sprawled on the stairway you saw the all too familiar jacket-clad Mr. Smith. The dark blood leaking out from between his fingers made your skin grow cold. The stairs and hallway bore the telltale signs of a man dragging himself off to find a nice quiet place to die. His visor was cracked and one section had broken away exposing a small portion of his eye, and the pain you saw in his expression was enough to snap you out of your shock. 

"Oh my god- wha... what happened?!"

The only answer you got was another grunt and laboured breathing. The little amount of skin you could see looked rather pale, and he seemed to be sweating quite a bit.

"I'll call the doctor"

"No doctors!" his sudden bark made you jump despite yourself. 

"You're going to bleed out if I don't! I'm not going to let you die on my staircase"

"I can manage" he spat out, "you have medical supplies?"

"Just a first-aid kit"

"Needles and thread?"

You nodded yes as you approached him, eyes never leaving the rivulets of dark blood. 

"Hey- you might want to grab them" he barked again. 

You stood quickly and ran down the hallway to the bathroom. You threw the cabinet open and rifled through the contents, spilling a whole shelf of bottles and packages in the process. Nervous hands gripped the first aid kit as you turned and ran back to him, dumping the kit by his feet. You turned again and ran back into your room, throwing your closet door open as you looked for your sewing basket. In your rush you didn't have any time to think about how insane this all was, or how you very well might have a corpse on your hands in a matter of minutes. 

"Here! I hope you know what you're doing." you said as you handed him the basket. 

"This isn't my first rodeo." he grit out between his clenched teeth. His free hand reached out to the first aid kit and grabbed some iodine. He winced as he tried to move his jacket out of the way. 

"Here- let me help" you offered, hands outstretched but not quite sure of where to put it. 

"I need to lay down- can you help me up the stairs?"

Seeing him propped up against the wall at the bottom of the staircase did not inspire hope. "You're not going to make it up those stairs. Here- come with me."  
You reached forward under his arms as you braced yourself. He was surprisingly heavy considering his lean build. The two of you managed to hobble him over into your room and onto the bed. He groaned as he fell backwards onto the mattress. 

"You've got to lose the jacket- I need to cut it if you wan-"

"-no! Not the jacket!"

Your brow fell at his interjection- "Do you want to bleed out or do you want to save some stupid jacket- you can buy another one!"

"The jacket stays in one piece." he groaned, the blood causing his hands fumble with the zipper. 

Taking one of his hands in yours, you placed it back over the wound. You carefully unzipped his jacket, trying your best to avoid the blood. You watched the small section of his face that was visible as you pulled the zipper down, being extra careful as you reached the bottom. His hands dug closer to the wound as you did so, and you bit your lip in sympathy at his pain. 

"There- jacket's off. There's no way you're keeping this shirt though."

He had beat you to the chase, slicing it open at the bottom with a pair of scissors from your sewing basket. Your eyes widened at the relative ease he had while doing that. Clearly he was right- he had done this before.

"You know- if you make it through this I'm going to have some questions for you."

"Let's just focus on the 'getting through this' part, ok?"

"Right... you know what you're doing then?"

"huh- " he breathed out shakily, "I'm going to need some help."

"What exactly do you need help with?"

"Can you get some hot water and clean towels or rags? Make sure that water is extremely hot."

You nodded your head in agreement, and jumped up quickly from your seat on the edge of the bed. You raced to the kitchen, filling the kettle up and placing it on the stove. Your fingers were surprisingly steady as they lit the match. You searched through the cabinets to find some clean towels for him. 

So this is what I'm doing at 4 am. Trying to stop a man from bleeding out. You shook your head in disbelief as you stacked towels in your arms. You heard the kettle starting to sing, so you ran to take it off the stove, mindful to turn it off despite your rush. 

"I've got the... towels..." You stared for a moment at the man in your bed- his torso impossibly pale against the stark red wound on his side. He appeared to have the wound already stitched up- snipping the thread with practiced ease. You approached him, heat rushing to your face as you realized he had sent you away to busy yourself while he fixed himself up. "I could have helped with that you know."

He lifted his brow as he regarded you, "But you did help. I don't need to worry about my dear Innkeeper passing out while trying to suture for the first time."

Your eyes blazed at his pity, and you opened your mouth to let him have it.

He reached a hand up and placed it gently on your arm, "I told you- it's not my first rodeo. And you did help me, by the way."

The heat in your face shifted from embarrassment to something else, as you realized he had removed his mask, and was staring up at you with very intense blue eyes. 

He seemed to notice your realization and dropped your gaze. An uncomfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you tried to think of something to break the silence. 

"I'm sorry this happened- I'm normally mor-"

"Are you that guy everyone's been talking about?" You blurted out, eyes closed. 

"Everyone? I guess word travels fast."

"You keep to yourself all day, sneak out every night. Pay in cash- up front for 2 months rent. I mean- who does that?"

He watched you carefully before speaking, trying to get you to calm down a bit. He straightened up a bit in the bed, “I’m not going to confirm nor deny anything.”

You groaned at his cliché avoidance. 

“However, that being said, you've seen my face now, so I would advise you to keep this information to yourself. It's in your best interest.”

Your annoyance vanished as the tone of his voice had sent a ripple of fear up your spine. But despite the unease, your eyes settled once more on his face. You could tell he was no young man, but he had remarkable youth underneath his rugged features. His body had the telltale signs of strength and grace belonging to a man half his age. Lean muscle roped across his torso. He was clearly built for strength and efficiency. You wondered what kind of work would give a man a chest like that...biceps like that... that captivating V of his waist...

“Miss?” he coaxed.

You closed your eyes for a second before taking a deep breath and looking him in the eye again, "I don't suppose you'd mind giving me your real name then? Since I already know your face."

His tired smirk caused your stomach to flip for a moment- the pull of his lips created beautiful lines that promised an even more thrilling smile, "Well, to be fair, I never got your name."

You ran your hand through your hair as you realized he was right, "Ah- yes. Sorry about that. It/s Y/N."

A small smile reached his eyes but not his lips, "Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. You can call me Jack."


	2. Whiskey and Apologies

The morning broke too early for your liking. The events of last night seemed like a distant dream, not merely a few hours ago. You groaned as you sat up, wincing at the pain you felt in your back. Your mattress was normally comfortable- but you then realized that you hadn't spent the night in your bed. Someone else had. 

The soft light of morning cast across the man in your bed- the very attractive man in your bed. You tried not to think about that too much as heat burned across your cheeks. Your lurid thoughts turned to concern as you noted the purple bruising along his ribs and back, and you approached him quietly, trying not to wake him from his slumber. Gingerly you extended a hand towards him and traced the pattern of a particularly nasty scar. 

Suddenly you found yourself thrown down to the bed and pinned underneath Jack. You yelped in surprise and pushed against him, astonished by his speed. 

"It's me! It's y/n!!"

A wave of realization rushed over his face as he stared down at you, followed by one of pain as his movements had caused his stitches to tear. 

For the brief moment you lay beneath him, the initial fear you felt had given way to something else- something stronger. Something wet landed on your chest and you looked down in confusion. Red had begun to stain your white shirt and your hands sought out the source. Your fingers brushed along the seam that you had watched him stitch last night, now torn open along the bottom. Your eyebrows rose in concern as you gazed up at him.

"Should I get some more hot water and towels?"

He huffed and sat back on his heels, "I think I'll be needing the sewing basket again."

"Or- perhaps you could show me how to do it?" 

He raised his eyebrows a bit, "Have you ever done this before?"

Feeling a bit put on the spot you shook your head yes- despite the actual facts. 

"Well- alright then. Grab the kit."

After a minute you returned with the basket, and a bottle of something you tossed to Jack. He caught it deftly- of course. 

"Whiskey?"

"Tequila." You asserted, despite his grimace. 

"Bad memories..." he grumbled, but took a deep swig from the bottle regardless. 

You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he drank. A small drip of the liquor ran down his throat in a way that made you want to wipe it off with your tongue. 

He coughed loudly after finishing his drink and broke you from your reverie. He fell down back onto the bed with the grace of a soon-to-be inebriated man. 

"Bring that over here." he said, indicating to the sewing kit. 

You approached the edge of the bed and pulled a chair up beside you. 

"So-"

"I thought you said you'd done this before."

You squirmed a little, "Yeah- I mean, a refresher is always good."

He looked at you with a slight smirk on his face, "Right...Start by sterilizing the needle- hold it over the lighter for a few seconds."

You took a deep breath and began your work- careful to follow his instructions to the letter. You stitched as carefully as possible, glancing at his face every so often to check how you were doing. He didn't seem to be affected by the stitches, but perhaps a bit by the tequila, judging by the faint red tint across his cheeks. His eyes lingered on your face as you worked- giving you instructions when you needed it, interspersed with praise. You were trying your hardest to concentrate on the task at hand, and not the heat coming from his bare chest. The easy rise and fall of his breathing was drawing you into its rhythm, and to your somewhat embarrassment, you found the tug in your abdomen return once again. As you finished, you ran your hand down the side of his torso- to comfort him- you told yourself.

He took your hand in his own as you brought your eyes to meet his gaze, "Not bad for your first time."

You balked a bit at his word choice, lowering your gaze and chuckling softly, "I hope I didn't hurt you."

"Trust me sweetheart- I've had a lot worse."

Your legs felt leaden under his heavy-lidded gaze, and you swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in your mouth. The corner of his lip tugged upwards in a smile that was only making the dampness between your legs worse. Before things got more uncomfortable, you got up from your seat, trying to hide your smile at his nickname, "I should probably get you something to eat- and some pain meds." 

He thanked you as he adjusted his position on the bed, "You know- you've got the makings of a great field surgeon with those hands."

 

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The day passed with a calm uneventfulness that you found quite refreshing after the events of the last 24 hours. You had ventured back into Jack's quarters to bring his dinner when you found him pacing the room.

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

Jack continued without looking up, "Couldn't sleep. I always hated this part."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "What?"

"The waiting." He stopped finally, standing in the middle of the room with the stature of a tired, bored and generally unhappy man. If he were younger, you might be inclined to say he was pouting.  
"Whatch'ya got there?" he indicated to your tray. 

"Dinner-" you started walking over to the small table by the open window, "it was so hot today I didn't want to use the oven or the stove." You set the tray down, and with a flourish, removed the cover off of a plate of sandwiches. 

He chuckled as he walked closer, grabbing a slice of pepper from the plate of vegetables, "Beats an MRE any day."

"You were in the service?" You watched him sit, munching on a carrot spear while you did. The bruises you saw last night had been ugly, purple blotches, today, you were having a hard time remembering where you had seen them. You didn't bruise easily yourself, but you'd never recovered this quickly. 

"You could say that," He conceded before taking a mouthful of sandwich. 

"Is that where you got those scars from?"

His mouth stilled as he thought about his answer. He took a long drink of water before speaking, "Some of them, yes. Others are more recent." He indicated to his stitches. 

Feeling inquisitive, you ventured closer, pointing to one on his shoulder, "This one?"

He glanced to where you were pointing, and took another bite, "One of the oldest- I was young, inexperienced. I wasn't watching my back, and I got hit."

"You had no one watching your back for you?"

He scoffed," You can't trust someone to have your back all the time."

"Ah- and I see that worked out well." you simpered.

Jack just shook his head and went about finishing his sandwich. You continued to search over the canvas of his body for more scars- not a difficult task. You came across one that was particularly nasty looking on his chest. The jagged, widespread purplish red marks looked like they had been caused by shrapnel of some sort. 

"What about this one?" you murmured, wondering how much that would have hurt. 

Immediately his demeanor changed, "That's a story for another time." He clipped, shifting away from you, and your hand dropped to your side. Though you berated yourself for it, you couldn't help but feel slighted. Your hands felt restless at your sides, and you grabbed his tray off the table in a less- than-graceful gesture. 

"I wasn't finished with that." he said, perplexed at your sudden mood change. 

"You can have more when I get answers."

 

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You'd been glowering into your wine glass for a long while. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that. He was, after all, just a guest. Despite what you'd done for him, he didn't owe you anything other than the price of the room. Of course, you were too stubborn to swallow your pride and apologize for it. So you stared into the ruby depths of your glass, swirling it around and watching the legs drip down the sides. Jack walked through the entrance to the kitchen, waiting for you to make eye contact. You closed your eyes and tried to force your apology out, but he beat you to it. 

"I didn't mean for that to be hostile."

"Don't apologize- please. I'm the one who should be doing that." You finally met his gaze, and instantly regretted it. The concern in his eyes was too much to handle right now, so you returned to staring into your glass. "I shouldn't have pried."

He walked over to the counter and leaned against it, "I don't usually make a point of talking to people. It's best for everyone that way. I've gotten used to assuming everyone is a potential threat."

You feigned surprise and placed a hand against your chest. 

"Yes, you too. I've gotten used to leading a solitary life. It's served me well."

"Sounds lonely to me." you offered, regarding him now with sympathy. 

He let out a short breath, "You get used to it." 

The lines of his face seemed to make him look weary now; the frame of his shoulders hung lower from their usual sturdy countenance. You bit the edge of your lip, and swallowed the rest of your wine in one swig. "Let me make you something to eat- it's the least I can do."

He smiled, "How about you let me cook something."

"Only if I can help." you smiled back. 

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After a half hour of collecting and prepping your ingredients, it was time to cook. Jack had insisted on making a family recipe- something he'd said his mom had made all the time on their farm. 

"I didn't take you for the country type." you teased as you dredged some chicken through flour. 

"It was a long time ago-" he countered, "and before you ask, no, I didn't wear a cowboy hat."

"Well, I'm just saying, you have mentioned rodeos quite a bit."

"It's a figure of speech." he remarked, a bit exasperated. 

"Ok- all the chicken is coated, time to fry it?"

"You'd better let me do the next part- it's easy to burn."

"You trust me with stitching you up, but not frying some chicken?"

"I'm speaking from after having experienced your sewing skills." 

Your mouth dropped open in offense. He laughed despite your stormy expression, and the sound of it did well to stop your anger in its tracks, "I believe I heard you say something about me being a good field surgeon with these hands." you quipped. 

"I do remember there was tequila involved-"

"Ah, so you were drunk and were just trying to get rid of me?"

"Maybe I was thinking of the uses for hands as lovely as those."

Your eyebrows jumped up at his complement. You had to reflect if he had actually just said that. He couldn't have meant it that way- could he have? And yet you remembered how he had looked at you that day, his eyes heavy, his lips slightly parted. You could feel your face becoming warm. You turned away from where he stood and went over to the sink to wash the egg and flour off of your fingers. 

The dinner you shared was an unexpected treat. Not because of the food, though it was delicious, but because you finally had the chance to share a meal with Jack. He ate in a manner telling of his regimented life, but the order of it was calming in a way. Your argument had been temporarily forgotten, and you actually got a decent conversation going- though you were careful to avoid the subject of his military past. You were enjoying getting to know Jack better- and you didn't want the night to end. You remembered a bottle of whiskey you'd picked up, after hearing him suggest it the other day. 

"Hey, Jack, would you be interested in a glass of whiskey?" you felt more nervous that you should have been as you waited for his response. 

"Well, I was going to finish the dishes first, but since you asked so nicely" he smiled. 

You grabbed the bottle, and handed Jack two glasses as you headed upstairs with him. Instead of stopping by his door, you turned to the other side of the hallway and unlocked a different door. He smiled as you indicated for him to go in front of you, and you walked up the stairs after him. The door at the top of the stairs opened onto the rooftop, and you made a sweeping gesture to the few chairs in front of you.

"Well, what do you think? Best views outside of the city." you smiled. 

He took in his surroundings and followed your lead to the chairs, "And I thought my room had the best view."

"Second best view-" you chuckled, "and don't quote me on that."

You poured a small glass of the liquor in each glass, and handed one over, "As an apology for this morning"

He held up a hand," Don't mention it- water under the bridge now." His smile was contagious, " But, you know, that's not much of a toast. Maybe something like...to innkeepers that know how to suture."

You gave him a thoughtful gesture, "I think you mean, to innkeepers that know how to take proper care of their guests."

You both took a healthy sip from your glasses; you tried not to let the burning sensation on your throat show through to your face. He seemed pleased enough- eyes closed in an enraptured expression. You tried to stop yourself from staring, but you found yourself unable to take your eyes off of him. The smile on his face deepened, and you felt your stomach flip. The whiskey had turned your insides molten, and you could feel the heat of it drip down to your toes. You could only imagine what kind of a heartbreaker he would have been in his army days. Not that he wasn't now also... You felt a little irrationally jealous of the other women who he'd surely been with. You drank deeply and tried to focus instead on the fact that you were with him now- despite things being frustratingly platonic. The heat in your stomach bubbled as you rested back in the chair, letting your head fall back to stare up at the stars. You were trying and failing to push the image of Jack in bed out of your mind, but the harder you tried, the more you found yourself thinking about it. You crossed your legs over each other and chewed on your lip. It had been much too long since you'd had sex. This certainly wasn't helping your imagination. Thinking of how snugly he would fit inside you now- thrilling over how tight and wet you'd be. How the feeling of him on top of you- pinning you down would be the only thing you'd be thinking of for the days after. God- how strong he must be. What else could he do with those hands? The feeling of them wrapped around your neck, squeezing hard, just tight enough to-

You'd heard your name twice now- shit he was talking to you! "Sorry- did you say something? I must have drifted off."

He chuckled- "I'd asked what you were thinking about, seeing as you suddenly got so quiet. Guess that explains that."

You were thankful for the blanket of darkness obscuring the blush burning your cheeks. You could feel the dampness soaking into your panties- something you'd have to attend to sooner than later. 

"I think I should probably head to bed- feel free to stay out here as long as you want." you added quickly, trying to walk as naturally as you could given your condition. "Um- thank you for a great evening."

"I will admit," he replied, turning to watch you walk away, "it was nice to not eat alone."

 

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You practically ran down to your room, slamming the door behind you. You ripped at your clothes blindly, throwing them off of you and they landed with a soft noise. A small part of your brain was laughing at your desperation- acting like some hormone addled teenager. It was quieted though as soon as your fingers slipped into your wet heat. You couldn't hold back anymore- and your own fingers would have to do. You thought about his hands- powerful with long fingers. He'd been alone for a while, so you'd expect him to be impatient, and that suited you fine. The way he sent desire pooling through you you'd not need to worry about foreplay. You imagined him taking hold of your hips, guiding himself in before pistoning hard into you. He would set a punishing pace, and you were more than happy to oblige. With your free hand, you traced up along your stomach to your breast, palming one firmly before rolling your fingers over your nipple. Would he use his mouth on you? Leaving your chest wet- nipples painfully hard against the cool night air. You could feel yourself getting close, and you desperately wanted to call out his name, but you didn't dare. Not when he was so close by. You felt your hips getting away from you as you started circling your clit, the stimulation sending you hurtling towards the edge. Your bottom lip felt close to splitting as you bit down into it- desperate to stay quiet. The image of him overtop of you, encouraging you to let go and give into the white hot bliss was what finally did it for you- thinking of him moaning in your ear as he came. You couldn't help it- a half strangled moan that resembled his name slipped from your lips, amidst several whimpering keens that you'd be ashamed to admit came from you. But in the afterglow, you could care less about anything else other than the fact that you were the most satisfied you'd been in a long time.


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly plot in this one- next chapter will be worth the wait ;)  
> Also, thanks to everyone who has left kudos and commented on this work. It means a lot!!

Crickets were chirping in the lantern light outside of the open window. The familiar smell of Jack’s worn leather jacket filled his lungs, and the familiar weight of it brought a comforting assuredness. His stitches pulled a bit as he maneuvered, and he grimaced against the all-too familiar pull. Not one to listen to bed-rest orders, he felt little reservation on leaving for a mission- save for the fact that he might incur in the innkeeper’s wrath if she found out.

The Innkeeper. Y/n had been the one constant thought on his mind since that night you'd helped him fix himself up. He hadn't forgotten the look of concern written on your face as you'd stitched him up, though not for lack of trying. He had been so used to having the mission on his mind at all times that this distraction felt unnerving. His years of training had honed him into a well-focused man. This sudden rousing fixation made him feel as if he had been thrown back to his youth; where his carnal thoughts still ran rampant, leaving him breathless at inopportune moments. 

He closed his eyes and tried once again to push you from his mind. He was back on mission tonight, and he was not prepared to leave before he had centered himself. He definitely was not thinking about the fleeting accidental touches you two had shared. The painfully obvious stares you had burned in trails down his abdomen. The way your curves had been framed in the hard moonlight, imagining how perfect of a contrast they would be against his firm lines. 

The cold water from the basin splashed against his face and the ragged breath he drew in was not from lust coursing through him, but from bracing shock.

Good.

He looked up in the bathroom mirror and gave himself a hard look. Despite the warm soft light from the lantern, his reflection was sharp. He sighed, disheartened at the lines framing is eyes, his mouth. The crown of silver hair upon his head; he shook himself. 

Get a hold of yourself! You're out of your league old man. She just wanted to help you- nothing else. 

If he let himself continue down that path, he would only fall into a tumultuous, stormy mood; off center and off his game. If he was going to continue in his mission, he would need to continue his work with trademark exacting grace. With a practiced grace, his hands ran over his pulse rifle, giving it one last check before heading out, as was his routine. After one last heavy breath, he slung his rifle across his back, checking the strap across his chest with a sharp tug. The comfort and familiarity of the mask sliding over his face steadied him, and he inhaled to fill his lungs, expelling his tension.

He was out the door in a nearly soundless minute, unaware of his cautious shadow. 

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

The day had passed agonizingly slow for you. Though last night had you waking up feeling extremely relaxed, you couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment. You hadn't meant to let your lust carry you away like that. Now whenever you'd see Jack you would have a hard time looking him square in the eyes. It was almost concerning how fast you had felt yourself swept away by him. The question of reciprocation burned in the back of your mind and pushed a lump into the back of your throat. 

Despite going against logic, you had hoped in some small part of you that he had overheard you last night, and would bring it up if you saw each other. Unfortunately, no such thing came to pass, and you resigned yourself to work in the kitchen in the off chance that he would stop by. It seemed to be the best course of action if you were to confront him; he had made a habit of joining you for meals as of late. Unfortunately, the morning passed into the afternoon, and still no sign of Jack. You had left a tray of food upstairs for him, and had later checked to see if he had found it. The plate was empty, but no other sign of his existence was present. You had stood outside his door for a moment, tempted to knock on it, but too nervous to actually do it. So you lingered there, resigned to stare at the grain of the wood, wishing you could do more than stand idly by.

 

Stars had begun to push through the darkening sky in pinpricks and the sounds of the night crescendoed; though they fell on deaf ears. You had still been consumed with trying to find a way to confront Jack after your nocturnal activities, when you heard the familiar sound of the second stair squeaking. Nose pressed against the door, you peered through the keyhole as you watched him pace through the hallway with the practiced grace of a cat. As silently as you could manage, you slipped out from your room and tried to mimic his steps out the door. Though you didn't quite have his stealth, he was already far enough away for you to be unnoticed. The keys jingled as you locked the door and you cursed under your breath. As you scanned in front of you, Jack's silhouette was fading fast as he looked now to be in a brisk jog. You gave one last tug on the door, checking the lock as you wrenched the keys free, and broke into a sprint after him. He'd obviously have the advantage here, as you didn't have any practice tailing someone in the dead of night. Nor broad daylight, for that matter. The sound of your shoes striking the cobblestones underfoot seemed to fill the night air, and you hoped the sound of his own footfalls would mask yours. Inky dark obscured most of the familiar buildings, but you were lucky the sliver of moon that was out to guide you. Every so often, a highlight in the distance off of his jacket would correct your course. The night air had felt extremely brisk as you had left, but now it was a refreshing wave on your face. The burn in your chest had started to grow as your pursuit was catching up with you. You weren't used to running full tilt through darkened alleys after all. 

As you rounded a corner into another series of alleys, a noise startled you to skid to a stop; your lungs burned as you held your breath, ears straining to identify the noise. The only thing you could make out was the sound of a truck's engine idling under the rhythmic bass of someone playing the radio too loud for this time of night. 

You pulled your shoulders down from your initial surprise, and dipped your head as you took off again, heading in the direction where you last saw Jack. 

As you followed you weren't quite sure as to what you would say when you found him. Maybe you had followed him for your own curiosity- wondering if you could finally see what he got up to when he went out playing vigilante. Perhaps you had wanted to see if he really was the man of mystery he seemed to be. Or perhaps you had just wanted to see him in action. 

A wall of crates interrupted both you and the alley as you slid around a corner. 

Fuck

You had found yourself trapped, mere meters away from where you had seen him last. You could hear muffled voices on the other side of the crates. After some investigation, you saw that some of the crates were tagged with Los Muertos' telltale logos. 

Double fuck. 

Of course he would be trying to go after them. A wave of anger washed over you. Things had been fairly stable before he had blown into town. The gang had been surprisingly distant, and for a while the townspeople had enjoyed some peace. Albeit thinly veiled by the threat of violence if protection fees weren’t paid.

Until he had decided to stick his foot in the door, followed closely by his trusty rifle. 

You squared your shoulders, following the only course of action you could take. 

Out of the oven. 

Luckily for you, the crates were stacked unevenly, which made climbing more than manageable. An errant nail sticking out of a corner managed to snag you on the arm, tearing your shirt and skin alike, and you hissed in regret. 

Idiot

You bit your lip as you pressed a palm against your now bleeding arm. Thankfully, you made it to the top of the stack without any further injury. The cut on your arm had started to throb, and you had begun to chew on the inside of your lip to keep a few groans from escaping. Rising on shaky legs, you sank low to hunch on top of the crates, surveying what lay beneath you. You couldn't see where Jack was, but you imagined he was somewhere nearby. The music from the truck was clearer now as the engine had been turned off. The neon glow emanating from under the flatbed framed the silhouettes of four men. As far as you could tell, they didn't seem to be up to much. One was smoking; the wisps of smoke a haze of pink in the neon. The others stood around the truck in conversation- one of them was fidgeting with what looked to be some sort of bat. The wind blew against your damp shirt and sent a long shiver up your spine. The cold was nothing compared to the jolt of panic as you felt someone grab you.

A gloved hand over your mouth barely managed to stifle your yelp of shock. 

"What the hell are you doing here!" 

The authority in his taut question washed over you, and you bit down hard on your lip to contain the sound rising in your throat. You could feel his mask, cold against the side of your damp neck, and you tried to keep your thinking straight. 

You placed your hands on the one over your mouth and pulled it away slightly, "I was looking for you."

He released his breath gruffly, "Now why would you do a damn stupid thing like that?"

"Because- you'd be an idiot to go out looking for crime in your condition- you've barely had your stitches in for a day!" You tried turning around to face him, but he kept your head locked forward with a hand against your neck, his thumb pressed against your jaw.

"Keep your voice down!" he seethed, voice harsh in your ear. "You'll-"

"Hey! Who's there?!" The man who'd been smoking had moved towards the stack of crates and was scanning them cautiously.

Jack cursed in your ear, and your face burned despite the promise of danger. As quickly as he had snuck up behind you, he vanished. You spun around to watch him make quick work scaling the crates down to the ground, and duck fluidly behind an errant bin beside 

You watched as the men around the truck fell into form behind the one staring up at where the two of you had been. 

"¡Muéstrate!"

You swallowed hard as you skittered to the junction where the crates were pressed up against the side of a building. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit down hard enough on your lip to draw blood. 

If you made it out of this alive, there'd be hell to pay. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Blood was pounding through Jack's ears as he ducked behind a crate. Things could not have gone much worse if he had tried. He was on low ground, outnumbered, and wounded. Worse still, he had led a civilian into gang territory. Well, not exactly led- she had followed him there. 

Damn girl had a death wish. 

He grunted suddenly, grabbing his side and cursing to himself. He should have been further along by now. Then again, he had ripped his stitches fairly recently. He set his jaw and hardened his gaze despite the pain; he would be lucky to get out of this mess without opening them again. Through the rifle scope he targeted the four men, watching as they were making their way closer to his hiding spot. Ideally, he would avoid gunfire if possible- no need to draw more men to their location if necessary. As long as he could take care of the few men here, he could manage to get y/n back to safety. He was about to activate his visor when the sound of breaking roof tiles snapped his attention away. The gang members had heard it too, and hurried over to investigate. 

Jack turned around at the sound of scuffling feet to watch as you clambered down the crates. In light of the circumstances, his brow raised– incredulous.

"What?" you postured, "I thought I'd be safer down here with you!"

"You've got to be kidding me. Kid- you're going to get yourself killed." He turned his visor towards you slightly, "Don't make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you back home."

"You think I'd let you?" you retorted, hoping he couldn't see your expression in the dim light. 

He turned fully now, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you up against the wall, "I won't have your blood on my hands! I don't need to play fucking babysitter do I?" he spat.

You shook your head no, face burning in shame. 

"Great- now that that's settled- get the hell-"

Sudden footfalls from the alley behind him snapped his attention around. A younger looking member had come barreling out of the darkness. Jack mentally kicked himself for leaving his back open. It unfolded quicker than he could respond; he felt hands shove roughly into his side, slamming him against the rough brick wall. All that he registered was the crack of pain as the unprotected back and side of his head met the wall, followed by blackness.


	4. Into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was a cliffhanger, so hopefully this makes up for it ;)

Jack awoke with a groan. As his eyes parted and consciousness returned, a pounding ache emanating from the back of his head had begun to overtake his senses. The fog had begun to clear, but his mind was swimming with questions. He blinked slowly. The blurry surroundings were gradually coming into focus. The bed frame creaked under him as he shifted, as his body was still adjusting to his current position. Why was he laying in a bed? When had he taken off his visor? The last thing he could remember was giving y/n a lecture about following him- he had been in gang territory. 

 

Unbridled by the pain, he bolted upright as a wave of anxiety pooled in his gut. He had been knocked out in gang territory leaving a civilian defenseless. He groaned, both in response to the fresh wave of pain, and in personal reprimand. He swung his legs over the bed and stood up. He shifted on his feet, checking his faculties and his balance. With everything seemingly in order, despite the crowning, he took in his surroundings. He noticed that he was back in his room at the inn- however; his civilian shadow was nowhere to be seen or heard. The room was fairly dark; the mood of the room was ominous in the blue tinged moonlight. 

The sound of the doorknob turning piqued his interest- and, out of well-ingrained habit, he ducked to press himself against the wall and waited. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The door swung open and the warm yellow glow of a candle swathed across the room. You stepped in, steps faltering when you saw that his bed was empty. 

You cursed under your breath, "I swear to god, if he's run off again..."

The uncanny feeling of being watched prompted you to turn around, searching into the darkness with a sweep of the candle in your hand. 

"Haven’t run off- no need to fuss." 

You moved your arm over a touch, finding his silhouette and illuminating it more directly. "You know, you're lucky we made it back alive. I'd appreciate it if you'd just cooperate, and get back to bed and try to rest."

He pushed off the back of the wall with his shoulders, "Yes- remind me again how we did that? I seemed to have blacked out." He cut you a haughty glare that held an undercurrent of amusement. But then again, you could have just imagined that in the darkened room.

The candle flickered as you walked over to join him by the bed, "I managed to grab your gun." The candle on his bedside crackled as you lit it with yours, setting them both down again. "As it turns out, I can be very threatening when I want to be." 

He was watching you closely now, seeming to appraise your body. In search of injury, you were sure. 

"I convinced the guy I had no idea how the gun worked, but that I was sure if he stuck around long enough I would figure it out- I am a quick study after all." You smiled despite Jack's grim expression. 

"You shouldn't have followed me. You not only put yourself in danger-"

"I know, I know- I put your mission in danger."

His scowl deepened at your sass, "Yes...you did." He folded his arms over each other, "But you also put your life on my conscience"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his heroic inclinations, "I can take care of myself- clearly!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "That's not the point-"

"Yes- that is the point! I knew I could handle myself so I thought... I- " you lost your thought as you struggled to hold his gaze. His expression had softened, but his eyes were stony still. 

"You thought what- you'd help me? And what training do you have? You know your recon? I'm sure you use advanced stealth tactics all the time on the job as an innkeeper, yeah?"

Your face was starting to burn, and your fists clenched at your side, "I thought at least I could be there for you if you ran into trouble." You dropped your gaze, "I couldn't stop thinking about whether you were surrounded or ambushed- you aren't exactly in fighting shape if you hadn't noticed."

"And if I was ambushed, what do you think you could have done about it?" he pushed, leaning forward, hands resting on the edge of the bed frame.

"I could have helped you! I could have done something!" Your voice was hard, challenging Jack's. "Can't you see my point?!" you broke, exasperated at the man in front of you. "Why won't you let someone look after you for once?" Your eyes were searching his face- softened by your affections for him. "This whole lone wolf business is going to get you killed! Do you have a death wish or something?"

Something deeply upsetting passed over his face, and his eyes had a wistful, far away look in them. As soon as you had seen it rise to the surface, he pushed it away, "It's all I've ever known."

The tone in his voice broke something in you. Your heart ached to help this man, however you could. You found yourself drawing closer to him, pulled in, "Have you ever given anyone the chance to try?"

His eyes were dark in the candle lit room and they searched your face for something unspoken. Try as he might, he couldn't hide the fatigue in his face, nor the weary dip in his shoulders that screamed at him to just let go- to let someone in. He couldn't hide the faint spark of hope that he had held onto deep within himself, that living alone wasn't his only option- that he could learn to trust again, and let go of his savior complex. 

His lips parted in a wordless gesture, but your hand on the side of his face stilled his words. You could feel him lean into your touch- his brows raised in defeat and his eyes closed. Your breath seemed hollow. Though you hadn't known Jack for long, you had known him to be the definition of strong. And to see him like this now- it weighed upon you so heavily. The burning need to help this man in front of you sent tendrils of liquid desire to your belly. To show him the kindness that had not been afforded to him for his years alone. Your own needs slipped away, as all you could process was showing him how you could help him heal. 

You closed the short distance between the two of you, and found his lips warm and slightly rough. The press of his nose against your cheek, and the warm exhale against your skin thrilled you. The kiss was unbroken for a short while, and despite its chaste nature, you found yourself breathless. You had begun to pull away a bit, concerned that your actions may not have been reciprocated, when you found yourself suddenly pulled back towards him, his hands on either side of your head. You struggled to keep a groan from escaping as you felt his fingers twining in your hair, but you were powerless against him as he pushed your head back, fingers rough against your scalp to elicit a gasp from you. He had deepened the kiss, and you found your tongue sliding with his in a way that slackened your jaw. It had been too long since you'd found yourself lip-locked with another. Your head was swimming with lust but your need for oxygen caused you to part. Jack was undisturbed by your interruption, instead opting to continue kissing down your neck. He laid a trail of searing nips along your pulse, smoothing over the bites with a stroke of his tongue. With your ability to breathe returned to you, you gained some coherence- albeit just barely. You more than appreciated his ministrations, but tonight you wanted to take care of his needs- at least, take care of them first. 

You slid your hands along his well-defined jaw line, prompting him to raise his head. His pupils were blown wide in the low light, and you shivered to think that it was you who had elicited such a response. A wave of confusion washed over his face, and before he had a chance to think about why you had stopped him, you returned the favour. Starting at the junction of his jaw and his neck, you laved your tongue. You felt, rather than heard a deep rumble of pleasure from him. You smiled against his skin, and started working your way down. Feeling bold, you started sucking on his neck. The thick rope of muscle beneath your mouth strained, and the next moment you found yourself lifted onto his lap. His hands stayed at your hips. His hands felt so strong on your body. The insistent way he had begun palming your hips, sliding one down to rest on the top of your thigh made your hips stutter against him. He let out a strained noise at your actions, and it only prompted you to continue. He slid you further over so you were resting over his leg. You bit your lip, keening as you rode against his thigh. 

His breathing was getting heavy, interspersed with a few groans that stilled in his throat. You were letting yourself get carried away- his firm leg under you provided just the right friction. You could feel your clit pulsing hard as you pressed down against him. You could feel him hard against your knee, and you thought you should probably attend to that. Despite everything in your body screaming for you to continue your motions, you found the willpower to still. You straddled him properly again, and brought his mouth to meet yours. Your jaw had grown slack with your open mouthed kissing. A deep moan was torn from Jack as you bit into his bottom lip, pulling back a little before releasing it. You ran your tongue over the spot, before taking it into your mouth. Your hands had begun unzipping his jacket, and you pushed it down off his shoulders as you released his lip with a wet pop. 

His chest was heaving under your hands, and you looked up into his face. He was looking at you in a way that made it hard to keep eye contact, and sent a shiver down your spine. No one had ever fixed you with such a fevered, ardent expression before. A self-conscious thought was bubbling up in the back of your mind, and you threw yourself back in before it had a chance to form. Your hands slipped under the hem of his black t-shirt. If you had more time to savour your experience, you would have marveled at how a simple shirt could have framed and hugged every hard line of his abdomen in a way that made it almost a shame to remove. He seemed to be one step ahead of you, and with a simple gesture, he had tossed the shirt behind you onto the floor. 

Without any pretence of medical attention or help, you felt free to finally take in the expanse of his torso. By the candlelight, the shadows of his abdomen seemed augmented, accenting the already well-defined muscle there. The serratus framed his ribs, and you made no hesitation of running your fingers over them. You were careful to avoid his stitches. Although, despite the dim light, you could see that they were very close to healed. A subject of question for another time. A chuckle from the man beneath you caught your attention, and you glanced up. He had been watching you study him- and despite the appropriate circumstance for doing so, your face flushed just the same. 

Before he had a chance to tease you, your mouth resumed leaving a trail from his neck over his collarbones, to onto his chest. You couldn't resist the spread of his pectorals, and you lingered there for a moment. You could feel the power beneath you, and how easy it would have been for him to turn the tables on you. Yet here he was, subordinate to your will and your ministrations. As you circled your tongue around his nipple, you felt his hand slip into your hair, pushing you down delicately. You took his hint and continued working down his chest, leaving a damp trail behind your tongue as you went. Your chin brushed against his hardness, and you heard him draw in a rough breath. You stopped when you reached the top of his pants, your eyes focused on his as you slowly undid them. You moved to kneel on the floor in front of him. As you settled yourself between his legs, you slid your hands up from his knees to his thighs, spreading your fingers over them. You could see him straining hard against his pants. Your bit your lip absentmindedly as you palmed him firmly. He let out a choked noise as you pushed his pants lower, freeing him in the process. You wrapped your hand around him at the base, stroking him lightly. As his hips jumped, his cock twitched in your loose grip. You gripped a bit firmer; he was hot and solid in your hand, the tip already leaking. You wondered how long it had been for him as you ran your thumb through the liquid seeping at the top. You heard him curse, and you conceded that you should probably stop teasing him. 

You pushed against his legs, prompting him to spread them a little further as you lowered your head.

"- I uh- I d..don't have anyth-"

The comment died on his lips as you took him between yours. You swept your tongue over the tip before taking more of him into your mouth. You hadn't done this many times before, but judging by the noises he was making, you didn't think you'd get any complaints. Feeling him like this under you, cock straining, thighs starting to shake from trying to control his hips- you were starting to get uncomfortably wet. You slipped your free hand down underneath the hem of your sleep shift and almost cried out when your fingers found your clit. The vibrations from your strangled cry buzzed around his member, and he fisted into your hair encouragingly. You had found a steady rhythm to grind out against your palm, and so endeavoured to take him deeper, trying to relax your throat. His self-control lasted a few more moments before his hips started pistoning into you, incapable of holding himself back against the warm wet vise he found himself in. You spread your hand against his hip, pushing down in an effort to still his movements. You weren't ready for him to get away from you yet, and you slid your tongue flat against the underside as lifted you your head, releasing him with an obscene noise. 

You started running your tongue around his tip again as you raised your eyes to meet his. God- you were almost sorry you had done it- the look in his half-lidded eyes should have burned you alive. Molten desire swam in the depths; his lips perpetually parted with the corners upturned in a rapturous smile. The lines of his face were softened in the light- and you had the uncanny feeling that he looked familiar. But that too was conversation for another time. You sank down on him once again, suddenly taking him deep. He thrust into you, but this time you were a bit more prepared. You bobbed against him, working with his movements. Your core was aching, and your fingers were slipping to find the spot where you wanted them to be. They felt nothing like what you wanted inside you, but for now they were more than enough. 

Jack's chest was rising and falling erratically, and the slow building ache in your jaw was grateful for that. Curses and half formed sentences were falling from his lips, and you could feel the muscles in his abdomen contracting in sporadic twitches. His grip on your hair was still firm, and when he pulled hard occasionally, your jaw slipped open a bit wider; your eyelids fluttered and a moan hummed in your throat. The movements of his hips was coming in stuttering bursts, long since lost their regular pace. 

Through his ragged breathing, you could make out a few words, "fuck- I... unh I'm-"

You swirled your tongue around him, swallowing hard against him as you felt him shudder under you. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before sliding your hands along his thighs, giving them a loving pat. He pulled you up for a kiss and you welcomed his embrace. You wondered if he minded tasting himself on your tongue. Wondered if maybe he liked it. He leaned bonelessly into the bed as he watched you over him. As much you tried to ignore the insistent throbbing between your legs, you couldn't exactly sit still. You were searching for any sort of friction. 

"How about taking some of your own advice?" his voice was husky, and sent arousal thrumming through your body.

You were finding it hard to focus on what exactly you had said before, "Wha- you mean about... about."

"You've been on your own for a long time now right?" He had lowered you onto the bed, and now the imposing silhouette of him overtop of you sent a thrum of pleasure to your core. "Looking after this place must be lonely work," He had started sliding his hand up your leg, resting at soft crest of your hip.” You should let someone take care of you for a change. Maybe let me return the favour?"

It felt as though the air had left the room as you watched him dip his head between your thighs. The small bit of stubble on his chin scratched against them and you parted your lips in anticipation, your breathing finally releasing in a drawn out keen. You felt his tongue flat against your clit, and your back arched off the bed. The sheets pulled against the bed as you gripped them in your fists, head thrown back as he toyed with you, his fingers not quite making contact where you needed it the most. You were hurtling towards your release faster than you had in a long time. He clearly had experience doing this, his tongue was expertly finessing you, his lips sucking at your clit with enough force to make you writhe. Your chest was heaving, and you could feel your hips jumping to meet his mouth. The ghost of your shirt was teasing your hardened nipples, the faint pressure driving you crazy. You snaked a hand up from the bed, where you palmed your breast, rolling your nipple between your unsteady fingers. Jack had raised his head, taking in the sight of your sinuous movements on the bed under him. Your mouth fell open in a curse as you felt his hand sliding up and over your stomach to attend to your other breast, working your nipple over roughly. You were struggling to keep quiet; strings of his name fell broken from your mouth. You opened your eyes to look at him, face hot under his gaze. 

He groaned as your nails ran through his hair, lightly scraping against his scalp. You felt him shiver against you as he returned his mouth to your aching center. You were so wet, you could feel the roll of your insides as heat pooled and threatened to overflow. His fingers joined again, this time he was reaching deeper, crooking them into you in time with his tongue. You felt as if lost in a rolling sea, unable to come up for air, but not wanting to. The steady rush of heat coursing over you with each heartbeat was sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

It wasn't long before you felt yourself fall- your mouth fell in an open expression, hips canting against him until you stilled. It took a fair amount of time for your breathing to return back to normal, and in the time between you felt boneless and drugged. Your mind running slower than the information your eyes provided. The easy smile that spread across your features remained until you fell asleep, together, in that soft light.


End file.
